


a fully armed battalion (to remind you of my love)

by MediaWhore



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Bad Poetry, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Gryffindor Louis, M/M, Slight Zayn mentions, Slytherin Harry, Teacher Harry, Teacher Louis, i can't stress enough how bad the poetry is, lots of fighting, more enemies than lovers, niall knows everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-09 21:45:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6924601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MediaWhore/pseuds/MediaWhore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“He was flirting with you by the way,” Niall says casually once he’s finished saying goodbye to Louis and he’s joined Harry outside.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“No he wasn’t,” Harry replies automatically, feeling his heart clench at the thought. Was he?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Niall simply raises a mocking eyebrow in response before wrapping his scarf twice around his neck.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Not that it matters!” Harry says quickly, eyes widening. “I wouldn’t care even if he did because he’s awful and the worst.” </i>
</p><p>Everyone at Hogwarts knows that Professor Styles and Professor Tomlinson absolutely despise each other. It's too bad that they're in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a fully armed battalion (to remind you of my love)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fookinloosah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fookinloosah/gifts).



> Heyyy,  
> thanks @fookinloosah for the prompts (sorry this doesn't quite follow what you asked for... hopefully, you'll still enjoy it :)) and also rhymezone.com for helping me unleash my inner poet.
> 
> The title is from Hamilton's You'll Be Back.

**_Saturday_ **

 “I hate Louis Tomlinson,” Harry mutters into his glass. He takes a big gulp of firewhiskey before speaking again. “I hated him at Hogwarts too,” he adds even though he knows Niall probably stopped listening five minutes ago when he started complaining about his colleague.

Niall snorts loudly, proving that he is not in fact the worst best friend on the planet and that he has been listening to Harry’s woes.

“You didn’t,” he replies mockingly, making Harry regret maintaining a friendship with him after Hogwarts.

It’s just rude of him to argue. Honestly, it’s just plain rude. Harry is pretty sure he knows who he hated while he was still in school. And he did. He hated Louis Tomlinson, with his gaggle of loud friends, his quidditch trophies, and his Gryffindor superiority complex. Not to mention the fact that the whole school had the most pathetic and obvious boner for him. Ugh, it makes Harry want to vomit just thinking about it now.

Not that much has changed in the years since they’ve both finished their education. Unfortunately, Louis Tomlinson is still Hogwarts’ darling and Harry’s own personal nightmare. He’s preferred by both students and faculty and has been nominated _teacher of the year_ three years in the row in the non-official-meant-to-be-secret-but-everyone-knows-about-them Hogwarts Awards voted by the seventh year students. Apparently his _Defense Against the Dark Arts_ class is illuminating and his perfectly sculpted cheekbones revolutionary. Not that Harry stole the ballot and went through the notes himself of course. He has more respect for his students’ privacy than that.

(Perrie Edwards, Hufflepuff, wrote that Tomlinson’s amazing bottom was the sole reason for her getting out of bed on dreary winter days. Harry knows he’s not an _athlete_ or a quidditch player but he has great thighs okay. His sister Gemma always says so. Besides, physical assets have nothing to do with great teaching. And maybe he doesn’t teach something _cool_ like defense but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve some loving from his students once in awhile.) 

“Excuse you,” Harry replies, offended and trying his hardest not to slur too much. It’s not that he’s drunk exactly, it’s just that he’s a tiny bit inebriated and the room is spinning a little. Thankfully, it’s not a Hogsmeade weekend which means he’s not risking running into any students. (Those traitors.)

“Come on, you never hated Louis,” Niall says softly before giggling.

“Don’t call my nemesis by his given name, you’re supposed to be on my side!”

“Your neme-” Niall bursts out laughing. It takes him a few seconds to stop shaking his head. “Ok, ok, ok,” he finally says after a bit, putting one hand on Harry’s shoulder, “let’s pretend I’m playing along with this. What did your nemesis Professor Tomlinson do this time?”

Harry fumbles for words for a few seconds, cheeks heating under the scrutiny of his friend’s knowing gaze. “It’s not just one thing,” he ends up saying pathetically.

Niall hums.

“It’s a constant series of little things, you know? Like the way he struts in the corridors like he owns the entire school.”

“Of course,” Niall agrees. He’s probably being sarcastic but Harry is too worked up to care.  

“Or the way Gryffindor students are clearly his favourites.”

“Didn’t the Slytherins also vote him teacher of the year last year?” Niall asks with a confused frown and that’s a reminder Harry could have gone without if he’s being completely honest with himself. He hadn’t particularly enjoyed the knowledge that even the students of his own house preferred a lionhearted fool to their own Head teacher. “Can’t be that unfair if even Slytherins like him.”

“He keeps mixing all sorts of cereals in his bowl at breakfast!” Harry replies, choosing to completely ignore Niall’s logical arguments.

Niall gasps dramatically, putting a hand on his chest. “Un - for - gi - va - ble,” he says slowly with a smirk on his face.

“It’s annoying,” Harry insists. He knows he’s being mocked right now, but Niall simply doesn’t get it. He and Louis got along fine back in the days. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had Charms together for seven years and apparently they _bonded_ or that’s what Niall and Zayn always say.

Harry needs better friends. Friends that don’t consort with (and/or defend) the enemy. 

“You and I both know you have no real reason for hating him,” Niall ends up saying after a few seconds.

“Hating who?” an amused voice asks from behind Harry and of course he can’t even have a fun night out with his best friend without the bane of his existence interrupting.

“Louis!” Niall says enthusiastically, getting up from his seat to wrap his arms around Louis Tomlinson’s tiny frame. “How are you mate? I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“I’m good, good,” Louis laughs into Niall’s shoulder before they let go of each other. “How are you? How’s your better half?”

“I’m great! Just visiting some friends. Zayn’s in France on a research project right now. Big top secret thing he can’t tell me anything about, you know how it goes." 

Louis laughs and shakes his head. “Unspeakables,” he says with an exaggerated sigh and an eye roll. “Professor Styles,” he adds, finally turning his attention towards Harry, a small smirk in the corner of his mouth. “Anything good in store for me for the next few weeks?” he asks teasingly. “What are the tea leaves saying? Am I gonna get lucky?” he says quickly, raising an eyebrow on the word _lucky_ and sometimes Harry really wishes he was better at offensive spells because he’d really want to hit Louis with a nasty one.

“Ha. Ha. Ha,” Harry replies slowly, sarcastically, trying his best not to grimace visibly. “I know, Divination is stupid and a waste of a discipline and I don’t deserve to be taken seriously as an educator, I get it,” he adds, unable to hide the bitterness in his tone.

“What?” Louis says, looking confused for a second.

“I’m tired,” Harry declares, loudly dragging his chair against the floor as he gets up. “You coming, Niall?”

“Harry, I -” Louis starts saying but he doesn’t want to hear it, raising a hand to silence him before Louis tries to explain himself.

Harry is too drunk for this anyway. “I’ll wait for you outside,” he tells Niall before putting his coat on and exiting the pub.

 

*

 

“He was flirting with you by the way,” Niall says casually once he’s finished saying goodbye to Louis and he’s joined Harry outside.

“No he wasn’t,” Harry replies automatically, feeling his heart clench at the thought. Was he?

Niall simply raises a mocking eyebrow in response before wrapping his scarf twice around his neck.

“Not that it matters!” Harry says quickly, eyes widening. “I wouldn’t care even if he did because he’s awful and the worst.”

Niall hums, unconvinced, eyes fixed on the path ahead.

“He is,” Harry insists, jogging to meet Niall and hitting his bicep half-heartedly with the back of his hand. “And I hate him. And I don’t care if he’s flirting with me,” he babbles, hoping it doesn’t sound too much like a lie. “Not that he is flirting with me anyway!” Harry adds after a few seconds.

 _Nailed it,_ he thinks with satisfaction for a few seconds.

“Right, the guy you were in love with at Hogwarts is flirting with you and you don’t care about it. Sure, that makes sense. I believe you Haz.”

Harry squeaks and stops in his tracks. “I was NOT in love with him.”

Niall just keeps on walking, completely ignoring Harry’s comment.

“Oi!” he yells after his best friend without success. Niall just walks against the wind, slowly making his way back to Hogwarts.

Harry sighs and shakes his head before starting to run after him.

“Hey! I was not in love with him,” he repeats insistently once he’s finally reached Niall who just nods in response.

“Yeah, I heard you the first time you yelled mate. You weren’t in love with him, that makes sense,” he says with a grimace and clearly he’s not believing Harry. Why isn’t he believing Harry?

“Just like you’re not in love with him now,” Niall adds, smirking.

He’s done entirely too much smirking for one evening, it can’t be good for his health. Surely there’s a maximum amount of smirking one individual can do before hurting themselves and Niall has gone over it. Harry should investigate this once he’s more alert. And not arguing.

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life. Me? In love? With Professor Perfect?” he says with all the disgust he can manage.

So maybe Louis is a very attractive fellow and Harry has noticed. That doesn’t mean he’s _in love._

Niall sighs, stopping at the school gate and turning towards his friend with an apologetic look on his face. 

“You’re right,” he says with an eye roll. “You’re not in love with him.”

Harry feels a proud sense of satisfaction curl into his belly. “Exactly.”

“You’re obsessed with him,” Niall adds with a concerned look on his face. He bites his lower lip for a few seconds before shaking his head. “But hey, it’s been going on since you were thirteen years old, you probably can’t help it.”

“It’s… it’s… I…” Harry fumbles for a moment before groaning and letting his head fall onto Niall’s shoulder defeatedly.

“Awww,” Niall whispers as he wraps a comforting arm around Harry’s body. “It’s okay, he’s obsessed with you too.”

“No, he’s not.”

“Yes,” Niall laughs before pressing a small kiss to Harry’s cheek. “Now let’s get back inside the castle where it’s nice and warm and we can get some water into you before you crash.”

“Okay,” Harry mumbles into Niall’s scarf. “He’s still annoying and the worst,” he adds because it’s important. Crushes, obsessions and…. potential feelings he might have don’t change that.

“‘Course,” Niall laughs. “You probably wouldn’t like him otherwise.”

 

*

 

**_Sunday_ **

The next morning, Harry wakes up to a mean hangover that serves as a reminder that he caught feelings for Louis Tomlinson and that there is no way he can ignore them now.

“Great,” he mumbles into his pillow, eyes still closed and refusing to take in the state of his life.

“Shut the fuck up,” Niall tells him with a kick to the shin from the other side of the bed.

Well, at least his partner in crime is feeling the effects of their substance abuse as much as he is. It’s a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. After all, Niall is the one who ruined everything.

“I hate you,” Harry whispers before turning around so he is lying on his back and staring at the ceiling of his bedroom. Staring desperately at the ceiling of his bedroom.

“Well I hate this headache,” Niall groans, kicking him again.

“Ow,” Harry whispers pathetically at the contact, more automatically than anything else since Niall lacks the strength to do any real damage in his current predicament. “I should be the one kicking you, you ruined my life.”

Niall stays silent for so long that for a moment there Harry thinks he’s fallen back asleep. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, he opens his mouth and slowly makes his way through a sentence. “I don’t know what in Merlin’s name you’re talking about but I will agree to anything as long as you give me something for that headache and you bring me breakfast in bed.”

“Why should I be the one to do these things for you when you’ve been such a pain?”

“You’re the host,” Niall replies automatically and Harry lets out a high whine when he hears the rustling of the sheets indicating that he’s about to get kicked again. “No,” Niall laments, hiding his face underneath his pillow, “no high-pitched noises.”

Harry huffs. “No kicking,” he replies before holding out his tongue towards Niall.

“Breakfast,” Niall demands.

“No,” Harry pouts. “You give me breakfast. I have feelings for the person I hate the most in the world, I deserve one nice thing."

And suddenly, it’s like magic. Niall throws his pillow to the floor as he rises to his knees on the bed, giving Harry a triumphant look.

“That’s right!” he yells, arm above his head and index finger pointing to the ceiling. 

“Hush,” Harry whispers pathetically, offering Niall his most adorable pout.

“You are in love with Louis!” Niall continues yelling.

“Inside voice,” Harry whimpers in reply, choosing to ignore the very annoying, very true statements coming out of his friend’s mouth.

“Oh no, darling. No inside voices here, I’ve been trying to get you to admit you’re obsessed with Louis Tomlinson for almost fifteen years!”

“I thought you were suffering the pain of our night of excess too.”

“Harry, there is a time for suffering because of a hangover and there is a time to celebrate the true love of two friends and this morning, I am pleased to tell you is the latter,” Niall says cheerfully, grinning from ear to ear.

“I don’t see why my unrequited love deserves celebrating, but if it does can it be with no noises and breakfast in bed?” Harry asks before curling in on himself and wrapping an arm around his stomach.

Niall nods enthusiastically before replying.

“First of all, not unrequited. Trust me on this. Second of all, of course, I’ll go get breakfast for you.”

Niall reaches across the bed to pass a hand through Harry’s mess of curls before getting up and stretching with a loud yawn. He reaches for one of Harry’s old Slytherin sweaters that he keeps by the bed in case he gets cold at night and puts it on, looking at himself in the mirror on the left of the bedroom. He makes a few kissing faces to his reflection before mumbling “I look great in green.”

“You’d make a terrible Slytherin,” Harry grumbles from his pit of despair.

Niall cackles loudly in response, his eyes lighting up when he sees Harry wincing at the noise. 

“Really?” he asks, cocky, as he puts his right leg through his jeans. “I’m not sure about that…. because, to be honest, I’m not really hungover I was just faking it to make you admit you remembered realising your feelings for Louis,” he finishes, making a show of buttoning his trousers. “How’s that for cunning Styles?” 

Harry gasps. He should feel betrayed probably, but the truth of the matter is that he should have expected it.

 “Now we can think of a wooing plan,” Niall says cheerfully. Harry groans angrily at him, but that merely seems to encourage him. He smiles, yells “Be right back!” before sprinting out the door.

 

*

 

Niall helping him figure out a wooing plan, as it turns out, involves him eating more pancakes than should be humanly possible and telling Harry fifty times that he needs to _move his lazy arse and tell Louis how he feels._ Of course, he doesn’t offer Harry any advice on how on Earth he’s supposed to do that. When he finally leaves around four, giddy because Zayn is due back home soon, Harry is just as lost and terrified as he was waking up. He’s been a teacher at Hogwarts for almost four years now and he’s made peace with the fact that it always meant he wouldn’t get much of a romantic life. (Slim pickings in a castle full of colleagues and literal children.)

He’s rusty is the problem. 

He’s rusty and Louis is irritating. Even more so now that Harry has realised he has feelings for him. Louis is like an itchy scab that he can’t pick at and is slowly driving him insane. And now he’s supposed to woo it?

Harry sighs before sitting down at his desk.

“I hate him,” he mumbles angrily to himself.

He starts shuffling the various papers scattered around to have something to do while he’s thinking when his eyes fall on a collection of poetry he forgot he even owned. It’s probably a sign that he needs to keep his things in better order but today its random apparition on his desk could be a blessing.

  _Poetry is romantic,_ Harry thinks to himself as he picks up the book and starts skimming through it. It’s a collection of wizard poetry, a book about the tragedies of war, and while it’s not exactly what he’s looking for, it does give him _the_ idea.

Honestly, how hard can writing a couple of poems about all the complex things Louis make him feel be?

 

*

 

**_Monday_ **

_You’re an annoying know-it-all,_

_And you keep strutting in the hall,_

_But since it’s cute how you’re so small,_

_Maybe give me a call?_

The next day Harry writes the poem he carefully composed the night before on his finest parchment and signs it _HS,_ figuring Louis should recognise the loopy handwriting easily. Then, he makes his way to the school’s owlery before breakfast to ensure his letter will be delivered with everyone else’s. He doubts Louis would cause a scene, or reject him cruelly, in front of the entire school so it seems like good enough plan. Not to mention it will give him the opportunity to witness Louis’ reaction first hand and mentally prepare himself for their inevitable encounter afterwards. If Niall is wrong and Louis doesn’t share his feelings, Harry wants to be ready.

He gets to the Great Hall with his heart in his throat and shaky hands, trying to stop himself from feeling like a complete and utter fool. He’s so distracted he almost elbows a third year in the face as he makes his way to the teacher’s table. He blushes, apologizing profusely to the student before quickly making his way to his seat, eyes fixed on the floor.

 _It’s going to be fine, it’s going to be fine, it’s all going to be fine,_ he tells himself over and over again as he reaches for some eggs and attempts to appear as normal as possible.

Appearing as normal as possible involves half-heartedly starting a conversation with his friend Grimmy, the Charms Professor, about the book he’s currently writing. He’d feel guilty for not letting out more than vague _hums_ and uninterested nods in the midst of being too preoccupied, but Nick is so chatty that he just keeps going and going with the bare minimum of encouragement, happily explaining his latest chapter with a wide grin. When the telling flutter of wings finally makes itself heard as the owls descend into the Hall with everyone’s mail, Harry closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Oh god,” he whispers, focusing on his copy of the Daily Prophet and determinately not looking a few seats to his left where he knows Louis Perfect Tomlinson is seated.

He almost makes it through the paper’s headline when a loud “shit!” is heard through the hall.

“Merlin’s pants, Louis are you alright?” Professor Payne asks worriedly and Harry can’t resist the urge to look anymore.

When he does turn his head to the left though he’s surprised to find Louis’ gaze fixed right on him. The flight instructor is muttering cleaning spells under his breath to fix the table where Louis seemingly spilled burning hot tea all over himself, but Louis isn’t paying Liam any attention. His fist is tightly clenched around the piece of parchment Harry sent him and his face is completely blank, eyes unmoving as they remain fixed on Harry. No surprise or disgust or shock can be read on his face… No joy either. He’s looking at Harry emotionlessly like he can’t quite process what just happened. After a few seconds of staring, Louis just shakes his head and gets up to leave.

Harry gulps before whispering: “That could have gone better,” to himself.

 

*

 

Ten hours later, after what might possibly be the longest day of his entire life, Harry is pacing in his bedroom.

He still hasn’t heard anything from Louis. It’s been ages and no words. They haven’t even seen each other since their awkward eye contact at breakfast. Harry knows they both have full teaching schedules to work around, but it seems completely impossible that Louis couldn’t take five minutes of his day to either reply to Harry’s letter or come see him.

 _This could be a form of rejection_ , Harry thinks to himself as he keeps pacing back and forth. After all, it’s an easy, painless way of doing it. Louis doesn’t have to face him, he can just pretend like nothing ever happened and the message will be quite clear.

Except…

What if it’s not?

Harry stops in his tracks, brain going into overdrive. Unlike Harry, Louis comes from a long line of Purebloods and an idiom like _give me a call_ might not have translated so well… What if he’s just confused and doesn’t know the true meaning of the poem?

Harry is trying not to get his hopes up like a fool, but it does seem like such a plausible explanation.

It’s not that Louis doesn’t know anything about muggle culture, but years of muggle studies still haven’t made him an expert quite like Harry who has spent his whole life with a muggle father, dipping in and out of the magical world with ease whenever necessary. Louis isn’t one of those who dismiss the idea that wizards can be taught something by observing muggles but he still makes annoying (adorable) mistakes. Once, Harry heard him talking with Liam in the corridors and he had to physically restrain himself from intervening when he called Instagram insgatram and deemed it pointless. Harry, whose dedication to his black and white aesthetic is legendary, almost cried. 

Suffice to say that no matter how hard Tomlinson tries, the gaps in his knowledge are unavoidable. Who knows if he understands what _give me a call_ means. Certainly not Harry. This just means he has to be more careful in his word choices, not that he should give up.

Nodding to himself, Harry sits at his desk to try again.

 

*

 

**_Tuesday_ **

_I’m slightly distressed,_

_‘Cause you think you’re the best._

_Louis, you’re a pest,_

_Nobody’s impressed._

_(I might be if we got undressed ;) )_

The next morning, Harry decides to change his entire strategy. Clearly breakfast, and not only the content of his poem was a mistake. There were simply too many witnesses. There’s no way Louis could have properly appreciated Harry’s words in the chaos of the Great Hall before he’s had his first proper cuppa… Everyone at Hogwarts knows how Professor Tomlinson is without his morning tea and that is an unbearable monster. Harry tends to think that Louis is always an unbearable monster, but even he can admit he acted on a whim without planning properly. 

Niall would be appalled.

So, instead of breakfast, Harry decides to leave the new poem in Louis’ office during lunch. It’s more intimate that way and yes, maybe he won’t get straight feedback from Louis’ reaction, but at least it’s proper romantic. And it’s not like he learned much from his observations the day before. This time, he even steals some flowers from the gamekeeper’s garden.

If Louis doesn’t get it, this time, there’s no hope for their potential relationship.

 

*

 

Except, much like the previous day, lunch time turns into afternoon and afternoon turns into evening… Suddenly it’s midnight and Harry’s face is buried in his pillow as he groans in despair. No news. No news, no response… He sent flowers, bloody hell! What else could Louis possibly want?

He tried catching a glimpse of his nemesis’ mood in the corridors or the teachers’ lounge, but Louis is proving to be quite elusive. He’s either busy or he’s trying to avoid Harry. And that’s just irritating, really.

Harry turns around, moving his pillow so that he can sit back against the headboard. He glances down at the mermaid tattooed onto his skin, watches her fluid movements as she absently brushes her hair with her fingers. 

“You don’t have love problems like this, do you, Olivia?” Harry whispers and of course she doesn’t say anything back, just pouts prettily and keeps grooming herself. “He’s the worst,” he adds like it’s a secret. “I fell in love with the worst one.”

Don’t his feelings deserve acknowledgement? Doesn’t he deserve more than the silent treatment? They work together for Merlin’s sake. It’s not like Louis can possibly expect them to never interact again!

Harry scoffs and folds his arms across his chest. He’ll just have to force Louis to react then.

 

*

 

**_Wednesday_ **

_Big thighs, blue eyes,_

_Big bum, like a plum,_

_Poisoned gift, I can’t resist._

_Can’t disguise, what it implies,_

_Can’t escape from you scum._

_If it persists, I’ll beg for a kiss…_

 

*

 

**_Thursday_ **

_It must be a spell, the way that I fell,_

_A long descent into hell, accompanied by your lingering smell._

_Your skin like caramel, my very own jail cell._

_Your arrogance is a tough sell,_

_But I can turn off my mental warning bell._

 

_*_

 

**_Friday_ **

_You’re the worst_

_Yet I still thirst_

_Free me, Louis._

 

*

 

It all comes to an end that Friday afternoon.

Harry is up in his classroom slowly making his way through each table to clean up the empty cups his third years have been using to read tea leaves. His next class is only in an hour so he’s trying to be as efficient as possible, swiftly moving his wand and muttering cleaning spells under his breath when there’s a loud bang against the trapdoor that gives access to his class. He frowns and stops in his movement, wand raised.

“Yes?” he calls hesitantly.

The loud banging resumes, this time, accompanied by an angry voice that Harry knows very well.

“Open up Styles, I know you’re in there!” Louis calls through the door. 

“Oh,” Harry whispers, dropping his wand on the table and walking quickly to the trapdoor.

This is bad. Not only is he about to be rejected, but Louis is yelling at him to do it. Still, he crouches to the floor to open the door and face the situation like an adult. It’s going to hurt, but he can do it.  

“Took you long enough,” Louis says mockingly, dropping the broom he was using to knock on the door. He looks furious, eyebrows furrowed and cheeks already reddening even though they barely started arguing.

“I…” Harry gulps, feeling his own cheeks heating.

“Are you gonna give me the ladder so I can come up?” Louis snaps, irritated and impatient.

Harry’s eyes widen at the request and he turns to look back at his half-cleaned classroom. He’d rather not remember the humiliating memory of being rejected every time he has to teach.

“No,” he decides to reply, letting himself fall onto his belly on the floor, putting his head on his crossed arms, peering down the hole in the floor. “What’s up?” he asks in a squeaky voice. So much for appearing cool and collected.

Louis’ mouth opens in a silent, outraged gasp. “What’s up?” he asks angrily. He shakes his head before reaching into his robes and taking out small pieces of parchments, waving them towards Harry’s face. He’s too small to reach the opening in the ceiling from which Harry is looking down on him, but he still makes an impressive figure.

“Ah,” Harry laughs awkwardly. “So you got my letters?”

“Obviously,” Louis snorts. 

Harry shrugs. “Well, you didn’t reply to any of them so I wasn’t sure,” he says, biting his lips shyly.

“Listen, Styles, I know I probably hurt your feelings at the pub last weekend with that Divination joke but making fun of my crush on you is really fucking low, even for a Slytherin.”

“Excuse me?” Harry asks, trying to process what Louis just said.

“I said it’s fucking low, even for a Slytherin,” Louis repeats. He scoffs, shaking his head. “I don’t know why I even expected better from you. I didn’t mean anything by that tea leaves joke and you know it so why are you being so unnecessarily cruel?”

Harry knows he should focus on the fact that Louis said he has a crush on him too but he can’t help the way his blood is boiling at the unfair comments.

“Oh, classic Gryffindor move,” he replies mockingly, “heading straight for a conflict without using the two neurons you have left in that brain of yours after all those stupid Quidditch accidents!” 

“Quidditch is not stupid. You’re just jealous because you can’t even balance yourself on the ground let alone in the air,” Louis says through gritted teeth, making Harry laugh exaggeratingly. 

“Jealous? Me? Of a sport that require zero intellectual skills? Yeah, good job Tomlinson you’ve figured it out.”

“Oh because Divination requires a lot of intellect? Please, everyone knows it’s a mixture of pure luck and faking it.”

Harry growls at the comment, getting up to his knees and pointing an accusing finger at Louis. “I knew you didn’t respect my subject!” he says with indignation. He shakes his head, feeling his throat closing up. “I can’t believe I’m in love with a jerk like _you_.”

“Woah, what?” Louis says, angry frown falling from his face and being replaced by a confused look. “You’re in love with me?" 

“Obviously,” Harry says petulantly, pointing to the poems Louis is still holding in his hand. “Don’t worry,” he adds, folding his arms tightly across his chest, “I’m very disappointed about it too." 

Louis takes a step back, eyes wide and bulging. “I didn’t know you were serious,” he says in a panicked voice.

“I sent you love poetry every day for a week,” Harry argues indignantly.

“You called me a pest!” Louis protests in a high-pitched voice. “I hardly think that qualifies as love poetry, Harold.”

“Well, clearly I was right to do so because you’re here annoying me to death.”

“ _I’m_ annoying _you_ to death? You’re the one who’s basically been harassing me all week!”

“Nice to know that you consider statements coming from my heart harassment Lewis,” Harry scoffs, deliberately using the wrong pronunciation of Louis’ name in the hope he’ll get more riled up. It’s not that Harry is being annoying on purpose, it’s just that Louis blushes so prettily when he’s angry.

“I’m an annoying know-it-all? _That’s_ what’s in your heart?" 

Harry licks his lower lip deliberately before shrugging. “What can I say? I was inspired.”

Louis pauses for a second, eyeing Harry up and down slowly. He inhales sharply with pursed lips. “Do you want to get dinner with me then?” he says before grimacing uncomfortably like he already regrets asking.

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Because you’re in love with me? And I’m in love with you? Unfortunately.”

Louis has strong arguments, Harry can’t deny them. But he still said some pretty unforgivable things.

“You said Divination was stupid." 

“That’s... “ Louis shakes his head with an annoyed laugh. “That’s not what I said. I said it didn’t require a lot of intellect,” he corrects through gritted teeth before his eyes widen and he realises what he just said. “And I obviously didn’t mean it,” he adds.

Harry hums.

“Okay honestly, I don’t know much about it and I don’t really care. So I can’t truly call it stupid if I don’t.”

“I have to finish cleaning up my classroom,” Harry declares once Louis has stopped speaking.

“But -" 

“My fifth years are going to be here soon.”

“Right, listen I’m really sorry about what I said. I’d love for you to teach me about Divination. I meant it when I said I don’t know much about it all…”

“You don’t have to grovel so much. Obviously, we’re going to dinner.”

“We are?” Louis asks, doubtful.

“Yeah, I just have a class soon.”

Louis sighs exasperatedly. “Then why didn’t you -” He shakes his head before muttering “nevermind”. He rolls his eyes before bending down to pick up his broom. “Tomorrow night then? Around 8 o’clock?”

“Yeah, fine,” Harry shrugs, getting up nonchalantly, trying to pretend like his heart isn’t about to jump out of his chest.

“Okay,” Louis says before turning around and running quickly down the stairs.

Harry waits until he’s one hundred percent certain that Louis has left his tower before giggling and raising his fist triumphantly into the air.

He’s clearly a literary genius.

 

*

 

**_Saturday_ **

The next night, Harry is sprawled on the floor of his bedroom with a very determined Louis on his lap, thinking there’s no way his life could get any better. Two hours before Louis let himself in with a tray from the kitchen floating behind him, claiming they should avoid public places because they’d just end up being kicked out for shouting. And shout they did, amongst other things.

“Did you wear a Slytherin sweater on purpose?” Louis asks, separating from Harry’s mouth with a wet noise, both of his hands under said sweater, his fingers caressing the skin of Harry’s belly.

“Yeah,” Harry pants against Louis’ mouth before kissing him again.

Louis lets him get away with it for a few seconds, his fingers digging into Harry’s hips as he bites his lower lip, chuckling at the way Harry’s hips buckle in response. “To rile me up?” Louis adds, lowering his head into Harry’s neck.

“Yeah,” Harry shivers at the feel of Louis’ breath against the sensitive skin of his neck. He can’t believe they could have done this years ago if they hadn’t been so stubborn. 

Louis snorts in response before biting into Harry’s skin. “You’re the fucking worst,” he says and Harry doesn’t need to see his face to know that he’s fond. It’s there in the softness of his voice, in the tenderness of his touches.

“Nahh,” Harry giggles, “that’s you.

**Author's Note:**

> You can hit me up on [tumblr](http://mediawhorefics.tumblr.com) and if you liked, please consider [reblogging](http://mediawhorefics.tumblr.com/post/146510834550/title-a-fully-armed-battalion-to-remind-you-of) :):)


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